


The Bad Days Won't Stay

by thatsthephan



Category: Phan
Genre: DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Support, affirmations, positivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13132230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsthephan/pseuds/thatsthephan
Summary: Dan’s a lot happier, and everyone knows it. But that doesn’t mean he’s “cured”. Depression doesn’t just disappear like magic, and sometimes, we just have those days.





	The Bad Days Won't Stay

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this (and having inspiration and motivation again), not to mention it struck real close to home. So merry Christmas, happy holidays, and happy weekend to everyone out there-here’s something to read while you’re bored or just chillin! Enjoy:)

Dan

I woke up with the oppressing thought of “great, life is shit again” to start my weekend off. For some reason, weekends were always worse for me. I didn’t keep busy, I didn’t have anywhere to go, no expectations set upon me to keep me motivated to function as a person-and so here I was.

First of all, I was cold as fuck. Particularly my hands, nose, and feet, which were all poking out from under my duvet and were exposed to the harshness that was our subarctic flat. But I didn’t really care enough to move, so I just mildly groaned and wished for death.

I really did hate these days. You see, when I’d had these days every day, it was like I didn’t even notice. I didn’t know what “good” or “normal” or “better” felt like. I was always miserable, all the time, and so that became my constant state of existence. I’d wake up and think, “ah, yes, the feeling of meaninglessness and impending doom is still here, which means I am, unfortunately, still alive.”

Now, however, since I had finally gotten the help I needed and started an actual road to recovery (which never ended but was better, was so much better), I could definitively say I loathed these “bad days”. They reminded me of my old normal, and I didn’t want that back. Ever. But I was stuck in a rut for now, and my nose was cold, and there wasn’t much I could make myself care to do.

Except text Phil.

Calling him or yelling for him was way too much effort, but I shot off a simple text, pulled my blanket over my head, and sighed. It was going to be a long, difficult day.

 

Phil

The only reason I woke up was because my phone dinged. It was ten in the morning on a Saturday, so the only reason anyone would be texting me was if it were snowing!

Or so I thought.

Dan had only texted me “sos”, which we had decided, a long few months ago, he would only do if he were in a bad place and needed me. So I immediately went to his room, tapped three times on the door, and walked in.

I’d expected him to be on the floor, like the old days, so I was at least relieved that he was buried under his blankets on his bed this time. I sat beside him, not doing anything at first. I knew Dan, had known him for a long time now, and had discussions before about what to do in these situations.

“Bad day,” he finally mumbled, no inflection in his voice at all from under the mountain of blankets. I made a sound of understanding, since he couldn’t see me nod.

“What do you need?” I asked gently, not touching him yet. We’d both learned that Dan would ask for comfort on a bad day, but that being overly aggressive wasn’t the way to go. Too much sensory overload.

Dan was silent for a long time. “I want to watch you cook.”

So we did that. I went to get things set up in the kitchen, and Dan followed me out a few minutes later, in pajama pants and a big sweatshirt. He sat on the counter, knees pulled up to his chest, as I quietly hummed songs while I cooked pancakes. His eyes followed me the whole time, lacking their usual shine, but I smiled brightly at him whenever I met his gaze.

The pancakes turned out pretty good, in my opinion, but I hadn’t made that many because I knew Dan wouldn’t eat that much. He picked at the middle part, not bothering with syrup, but managed to eat at least half. I knew he mostly did it for me, and I appreciated it.

I lifted my eyebrows at him when we were done, silently asking him what he wanted to do next. He sighed. “I dunno,” he mumbled, shrugging. “Pick a game or something, I’ll watch.”

I smiled a little, offering him my hand as we walked into the lounge. He took it, holding onto it tightly as I clicked through our game uploads on the PS4.

“Crash Bandicoot?” I asked.

“Resident Evil,” he replied, letting go of my hand so I could play, but grabbing a blanket off the back of the sofa and shifting closer to me.

I played for an hour or so, jumping every so often and glancing at Dan, who’d smile slightly as I did. He had his head positioned on me to where he could hear and feel my heart speed up, and he’d chuckle silently when it did. I was glad I was making him feel something, even if it was just a little. I wanted to do whatever I could for Dan during these times; it wasn’t much, but we could both say it was something.

I hadn’t realized Dan had dozed off until I jumped again, startling him awake. I chuckled, going to apologize, but the look on his face stopped me.

“I’m going to go shower,” he snapped, shoving off the blanket and whipping the door of the lounge open, letting the glass bang shut behind him. I winced-I forgot Dan’s irritability got worse on these days, as well. So much for being a good boyfriend.

And then I remembered there were no towels in the bathroom, and got an idea. I went to the washer, grabbing a towel out of the pile of Dan’s dark clothes that were currently in it, and tossed it in the dryer, turning it on high so it would be warm when he got out.

The timer had just gone off when Dan yelled for me, still sounding pissed. I grabbed the towel, smiling when I handed it to Dan, who looked surprised at its warmth. “Did you-?” he asked, his face softening.

I smiled, nodding. “Wanna take a nap when you get out?”

He actually smiled back. “Yeah.”

 

Dan

I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time before I went to lay down with Phil. 'You’re shit for being mean to him', I thought. 'He didn’t deserve that. He played that stupid game for you. It’s your fault you fell asleep. You shouldn’t have gotten mad at him. He didn’t have to bring you a warm towel, but he did, to make you feel better, because you’re being a dick for no reason. So stop it, get ahold of yourself. You’re shit. He doesn’t deserve this treatment. You don’t deserve him.'

Ah, yes, the self-loathing will get to you, if you’re not careful. I wasn’t careful, not on bad days. Nope. I let a few tears fall, wiped them away with the still-warm towel from Phil, fixed my hair a bit, and went to find him. I wasn’t going to be a little bitch in front of Phil today, if I could help it. It was only a bad day, not a really bad day-I could do this.

I found him in his room. We still had separate rooms for our things, and alternated where we slept (even though we mostly chose my room). Everything just felt soft and familiar in Phil’s room, especially the bedspread. I climbed under it with him, still freezing, and rolled over so as to try and hide my splotchy face. Phil was onto me instantly.

“Hey,” he said softly, propping himself up on one arm. I faced him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He didn’t believe me. I decided to try the distracting method, which was low but I figured could be effective. I started out by just kissing him, but when I moved to his chest, I felt his hands stop me. I looked up, asking what the problem was.

Phil was smiling softly, but his eyes said really? Honestly, I was asking myself the same thing. Like that would have ever worked.

“Bear, I think you should try to sleep.”

I sighed, giving in and rolling back over. Between my overall exhaustion and Phil rubbing small circles on my back, I was out in minutes.

 

Phil

I wish I knew how to help. As I felt Dan’s breathing slow, I felt myself fully relax, able to finally think he’s okay. At least for the moment. He hadn’t been okay, not last night, not all morning, and not in the bathroom just a few minutes ago. He could try to hide it all he liked, but I could see right through his mask, the walls he put up, everything. The tears were fresh on his face, his eyes too-bright and his face too hot for how cold he was, and everything was just off.

I wished Dan didn’t have to feel like this. It wasn’t fair, that some people had to go through life with different sets of problems while others got off better. I was one of the luckier ones; Dan not so much. I had mild social anxiety; Dan had major depressive disorder. It just wasn’t fair, and I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t make me angry sometimes, watching my best friend suffer because of his own brain. He was his own worst enemy, trapped inside a personal hell of his own creation.

The one thing I could say, however, was that he was doing better. Despite the days like these, he was making loads of improvement overall. That’s what I focused on, when the anger would sometimes make me want to scream and cry with him. Dan was happy. Not today, not all the time, but as a person, Dan was happy.

And that’s all I asked for.

 

I must’ve fallen asleep eventually, because Dan woke me up, his cold fingers lazily tracing over my face.

“Hey sunshine,” he smiled a little, his dimples barely forming. I smiled back, poking one of them.

“Hey gorgeous.”

The dimples disappeared altogether, but I didn’t acknowledge it or stop smiling. “What meal of the day is it time for?”

Dan checked his phone, shrugging a bit. “It’s only five. Dinner?”

I shook my head. “Too early. What are you up for?” It was a better question than asking what he wanted to do-I knew the answer I would have received to that. But Dan was still frowning, his eyes still lacking their usual shine, and I wanted to make him feel better so, so desperately, even if it was only a fraction of what “good” would be.

“Dan?”

His eyes snapped from staring distractedly at my duvet to my face, looking worried. I took his hand, pulling him to his feet, and led him over to stand in front of my mirror. I stood behind him, my hands on his shoulders, and spoke softly into his ear, my breath rustling the curls that were hanging near his eyes.

“You see your face?”

Dan nodded, avoiding my eyes-and his own-in the mirror. I waited until he reluctantly looked up, unsure and mostly looking at me, but it was something.

“I love that face. I know you sometimes don’t-maybe how it looks, or what it says, or the sounds and looks it makes without your full permission or knowledge-but I love everything about it. I love your little freckles and your dimples and that spot on your cheek, and I love the way you talk and how loud you are and even how vulgar and opinionated you are sometimes, and I love the way you snore so softly that it puts me to sleep, and how you smile with your entire face.”

I could see a minuscule smile forming on Dan’s face, but he was looking down at his feet, shifting around under my hands, wanting to run. But I wasn’t done. I tapped his shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror once more.

“You see your body?”

Dan did want to run now, the smile vanishing. He swallowed hard, nodding again.

“I love that body. I know most of the time you really don’t, and you try to cover it up, but I see it more than anyone else and that means I’m qualified to say it’s beautiful.”

I caught him rolling his eyes, but I continued nonetheless.

“No, listen. I don’t care how many negative things you tell me, or yourself, none of them will ever be true. You’re the only one who can’t see how gorgeous you are, Dan. You’re warm and soft and tall and strong and I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be able to touch you every day of my life. I know you’ll never believe me, but that doesn’t make what I’m saying any less true.”

The tears were slowly starting to well up in Dan’s eyes, so I spoke softer this time, making sure he would believe me.

“But looks only matter so much, bear. You know that. What really counts is that you are the most amazing person in here,” I touched his head, “and in here.” When I touched his heart, a loud sob escaped his throat, and I smiled. He’d been shoving that down all day, and I was glad he’d finally let it out.

I hugged him to my chest while I finished talking, his hot tears soaking the front of my shirt. “You’re smart, and kind, and funny, and caring, and innovative, and passionate, and creative, and likable, and lovable, and influential, and strong, and brave. If you need proof of any of that, just look at the last year alone. Not just any person could have done the things you did, Dan. There’s not another Daniel James Howell. I don’t have another best friend. I don’t love anyone as much as I love you.” I ran my hand over his hair, smiling at our reflection in the mirror. “The bad days won’t stay, Dan. But I will. We will.”

 

We went to the lounge so Dan could finish crying himself out, which he very much needed to do. I made tea, grabbed my duvet, and pulled Dan to my chest again as the last of the tears fell and the sniffles started. I hummed him a few songs, tapping the beat out on his back, which had always seemed like an effective method of calming him down. It didn’t fail me this time, either.

“Thank you,” Dan finally mumbled, sniffling again. I hummed, thrumming my fingers down his back.

“I haven’t said it in awhile. Felt like you needed to hear it again.”

I felt Dan smile. “I did. Thank you.”

We were quiet for a long time before I asked, “How’s your bad day going?”

“Better,” Dan chuckled, snuggling closer to me. I winced as his elbow dug into my rib cage, laughing with him.

“Good.”


End file.
